


Against the Wall

by SnowStormSkies



Series: Surrender [1]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: BDSM, Frottage, M/M, Multi, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowStormSkies/pseuds/SnowStormSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s better. They’re better. The music, the thrills, the pleasure, and the pain, everything is better and sharper, and clearer than it ever was before. </i>
</p><p>Another lesson. Another chance to develop and grow together. They're becoming stronger.</p><p>Third in the series, <b>Just Surrender. </b></p><p>
  <span class="small">Prompt was: Day Four: Frottage</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This is day four of the 30 days of kink, set in the same universe as Running Away Doesn't Change Anything, and Cool Water, both found here on my profile. Prompt was for Pegging or Frottage.

 

**_Against the Wall_ **

“Slow him down, Bill.”

This is fucking difficult – Bill’s in control now, he has to remember that, but he doesn’t want to, because it’s such a drag at times like this. But he listens to Georg, puts his hands on Tom’s hips, and stops his twin rocking into him. It takes a second for Bill to register that Tom still hasn’t stopped.

“No, Tom…” He murmurs, and Georg corrects again, telling him to use authority in his voice, make it loud, and make it clear. _“Stop_ , Tom!” He tries, and this time, it works.

“Oh my fuuuuuuck.” Tom huffs, dropping his head onto Bill’s shoulder. He sighs, the warm air blowing down the back of Bill’s shirt, but he’s good and doesn’t even try to get a kiss out of it.

_Oh my fuck_ is right. In all honesty, this was not how Bill anticipated spending his Tuesday afternoon. It’s not a bad way to spend it though. Tom needs to learn restraint, and Bill needs to learn to step up and be that authority figure for him. Gustav is off on his own right now but Georg is here in the room, watching from an armchair by the window. Bill holds Tom against the wall, pinning him down with sheer weight of authority and that little bit of height that Tom will never quite catch up with.

“And again.” Georg is firm, and out of the corner of his eye, Bill can see him in the mirror, balancing the crop in his hand, gently swinging it to and fro.

And off they go again.

Georg is teaching them now, using sex to illustrate how to control Tom with the tone of his voice, and simple actions – by stopping moving, and by saying _Stop_ or _No_ in a firm voice, Bill is supposed to make sure that Tom stops, and does what he’s told. It’s easy to lose it in this situation which is where Bill struggles – he has to be in control all the time, not just when he thinks it suits him. You can’t turn it on or off when it comes to Tom. Authority or nothing.

Bill and Gustav are learning through Georg’s lessons. Like this one, they’re usually a bizarre kind of one on two, Georg standing back and instructing Bill or Gustav as they work on Tom.

Tom just stuck doing as he’s told. As it should be.

As a unit, they’ve only been doing this for a few months now. It started six months ago, during the summer immediately before Bill and Tom turned seventeen. Now it’s November, they’re in the Costa del Sol and Georg has decided an afternoon of down time makes for a perfect lesson.

“He’s trying to take control again, Bill…” Georg points out, and Bill feels the pressure as Tom surges forward a little more, eagerly anticipating an orgasm or two. “Take it back, bring control back.”

Not words this time, but actions, and Bill wastes no time. Taking Tom’s hands by the wrists, he presses them against the wall, using Georg’s method of a little pain to correct over pleasure. “Stop!” He uses his voice again, loud and clear. Tom whines low in his throat, and Bill feels him try to push back before slumping against the wall in defeat.

“What do you want, Tom?” Georg asks, not leaving his chair. He rarely physically intervenes. The aim of these lessons is to teach Bill or Gustav, and Tom to work independently.

But Tom doesn’t answer. Again, this is something they’re working on. Tom often doesn’t want to confess what he wants, finding it too embarrassing or difficult to articulate the whys and hows. But Georg wants him to get used to it, and he points for Bill to reach down, grab for Tom’s privates. He doesn’t have to pinch or squeeze or pull – that’s not the aim here. The only goal is to show power.

Cradling Tom’s genitals in his hand, Bill has a vast amount of control, and he asks again. “What do you want?”

“To come.” Tom is flushing red, partly from embarrassment, partly from arousal. Bill prods him for more, closing his hand a little tighter. It gets the desired effect. “...Wanna go down on Bill.” Tom loves going down on anybody – Georg, Bill, Gustav, a girl, anybody. Not obsessed with it – Bill’s checked his porn stashes on both the computer and magazines and there’s nothing more in there than what he would expect – some classic het sex, some girl on girl, an obligatory gay porn dvd hidden in a ‘normal’ porn case, but nothing too… out of the ordinary. But during sex, if offered the chance to choose, or if given the instruction to go down on someone, Tom goes to fucking _town._ He loves it. Will do it for hours.

Literally. His current record is two hours, fifty minutes on Bill, just being pulled back when Bill got close, being used as the mechanism for Georg to teach Bill edging techniques. In Georg’s book you have to see, and feel it yourself to understand it. Tom hadn’t complained. Neither had Bill _after_ the fact.

“You want to suck Bill off?” Bill is never going to get used to that. The way it just rolls off of Georg’s tongue – no embarrassment, no hint of shame. He might as well be discussing the weather. “How do you feel about it, Bill?”

“No.” It’s not that he doesn’t feel like it but right now, this lesson is about _frottage_. Not about blowjobs, or handjobs for either of them. It might change later on, but Georg is very firm about keeping to objectives, making sure to remember them even when he’s tired, or horny, or just as eager to come as Tom. He’s supposed to be Tom’s lead on this, the one with control, and Bill has to keep them on track. “Not today, Tom. Hands on the wall.” He instructs Tom and sees Georg’s firm nod in the mirror. He made the right choice.

Georg nods again, and off they go.

It’s a steady bump and grind, Tom pushing against Bill, letting the friction of two layers of jeans push them both towards completion. Bill lets Tom move his hands back around Bill’s waist in exchange for allowing Bill to kiss down Tom’s neck, sucking up red marks that will darken into bruises. They rock together but Bill is constantly aware of being in control. Tom is constantly being pulled back, made to hold on, made to keep to Bill’s rules about keeping it low key, keeping it nice and steady. He huffs in frustration – but more importantly, he obeys Bill’s direction.

“Are you ready for Tom to come?” Georg asks, and Bill flicks his eyes to the mirror. There’s no clue in Georg’s face as to how Bill is to respond which means it's up to him to choose his answer and enforce it appropriately. Being a dominant force means making and sticking to your own choices, instead of accepting another's decision. Tom is not a dominant - he cannot make that choice for himself right now.

“Yes?” Bill tries to answer with the correct response, but Georg doesn't seem to agree.

“Is that a question or an answer?” He waves the crop again, and Bill sighs. Authoritative answers – not hesitant questions.

“No.” He’s not ready for Tom to have that release at the moment because the game has a different ending than that, and that’s his decision. “I’m not ready for Tom to come yet.”

“Oh, _what?!_ ” Tom yelps, his eyes opening again. “Come off it, Bill!”

Georg has taught them how to deal with this – cutting it off before it’s allowed to ramp it up and turn into complete disobedience. “This is your warning: no words unless you’re asked, or you’re going straight to yellow.” Bill holds his finger up in front of Tom’s face, expecting the pout followed by a shove and a bitch fit but Tom just sighs, lowers his gaze even as he pushes out his bottom lip. “Better.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Georg balances the crop in one hand.

“Pants down.”

 

\--

 

Tom is riding the edge again, ever nearer to the drop. Bill’s holding him against the wall, both hands pinned above Tom’s head, their jeans around their ankles, t-shirts cast aside. Bare skin on skin is fucking amazing. Georg threw Bill a tube of lube a few minutes ago, and now the slip and slide of their dicks on each other is fucking amazing. The Prince Albert that Bill insisted Tom get is turning into a very good idea indeed – even though Tom had fought him at every fucking step of the way to the studio. How much time has passed completely evades Bill but it’s long enough that the shadows on the wall have lengthened, and the breeze coming through the opened window feels almost uncomfortably cool.

“M’close!” Tom gasps in Bill’s ear, and as he has done before, Bill pulls back, takes away the friction and the slippery sensation, holding Tom back against the wall so he can draw back a bit, take it down.

Georg praises the both of them – Bill for his quick reaction, Tom for actually telling rather than trying to let it go unnoticed. This is their fourth break in this stage, the seventh in total today. Tom’s becoming increasingly desperate and vocal about his needs but Georg is encouraging Bill to take command of that, stop the asking and the begging and keep control.

“Step back, Bill.”

“No!” Tom grabs onto Bill, obviously loathe to let go of his one source of pleasure right now, but Bill gently untangles the fingers wound around his wrists, holding onto his bracelets.

“Shush, Tom.” He soothes, letting Tom get used to the change. When he gets close, he becomes hyperfocused on the goal of coming, of achieving more and better pleasure and Bill understands how difficult it is for him to stop. It’s his job to push into that space and teach Tom it’s okay to ride the edge and let go. “I’ll be right here.”

There’s a knock at the door before a key card slides through the lock and it opens.

“Gustav.” Georg nods to him but holds a finger to his lips. Bill can’t see him yet – Gustav hasn’t yet entered the room – but his whole focus is now on Tom.

“Oh, now this is… interesting…” Gustav shuts the door, comes around the corner, stares at Bill and Tom separated, almost completely naked, smeared with lube and precome. “How long has this been happening?”

“Lesson started ninety minutes ago.” An hour and a half – really? It feels like it’s been longer but Georg is scrupulous about time keeping when it comes to things like this. Despite always being late on everything else.

Gustav and Georg carry on discussing what’s happened but Bill remains focused on Tom and how tempting a view he presents.

Being sexually active with Tom is … strange. Georg made it absolutely clear he didn’t have to do it, but Bill wanted it. It’s not like being with a girl of any kind, or with Georg or Gustav. Being with Tom is very different, and he’s still interpreting how he feels about it.

But looking at Tom’s naked body, being not just clinical in his outlook but _hungry_ for that sexual contact makes him very glad he decided to take that step.

“Jeans off.” he commands, and Tom eagerly boots them away, just like Bill himself. It feels liberating to be naked, somehow provocative especially when the other people in the room aren’t. “Good boy.” Remembering to praise is hard for Bill – it’s so ingrained him to focus on the bad and correcting Tom that he almost overlooks when Tom does it right. Georg is breaking him of that habit slowly through lessons like these.

“Slide down the wall. Spread your knees.”

The display is lewd, crude, and exactly what Bill wanted. Tom ends up sat on the floor, exposing himself to all and sundry, naked and so fucking close that even Gustav winces at the need in Tom’s eyes. He’s absolutely focused on Bill, restraining himself by using his hands to hold his legs apart. Bill has no doubt if he didn’t, he’d be jacking off without restraint.

“Spread them further.” Gustav’s eyes are dark and dangerous. He wants in - everything in his body language is shouting it out.

“Tom, who is your authority figure right now?” Georg asks. His voice is loud but it’s not rough or harsh. He’s asking a question and just by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, Tom understands that an answer is expected. Tom looks scared. “You’re not in trouble. Who is leading you right now?”

“Bill.” Tom’s fingers are making a slow slide towards his mouth, probably to suck on them in his confused state – an old habit that refuses to die – but they’re still covered with lube, and Bill leans in automatically to push the wayward hand back down to where it was, holding his knees apart. “Bill’s my lead right now.”

The lead is the person who is in charge of Tom, holding him sexually, physically, or mentally in submission. Sometimes, it’s all three of them, sometimes it’s just one. Right now, it’s Bill. Even though Bill is taking the lead from Georg, he is the one who makes the decisions about what happens and how it works. Thus, Bill is Tom’s lead.

Not Gustav.

“Don’t interfere, Stav.” Georg rebukes, and Gustav frowns. His problem is he always wants in with the lead, not content to let someone else always have first command, and Georg is also breaking him of that habit. It’s confusing for Tom to have someone come in and potentially override or change the rules of the game he knows, it’s frustrating for whoever’s leading because they can’t carve out their own brand of discipline and expectations for Tom, and it’s really fucking rude on every level.

“Sorry, Bill.”

“No worries.” Bill grins at Gustav, and accepts the apology. They all have stuff to work on. “A little more, Tom, though. Just a little further apart.”

Tom groans.

But he spreads his knees.

 

\--

“S’good boy, Tom…” Bill praises Tom again, stroking down the back of his neck.

It’s been an hour since Bill finally gave Tom permission to come. It was fucking _glorious_ and Bill will never understand why or how he became addicted to seeing it but it’s almost better than the glass of wine from the mini bar that Georg poured out for him.

Right now, Tom is sprawled on the bed, dozing lightly in the last remnants of sunlight. He’s freshly washed, scrubbed down by an overly enthusiastic Gustav who sent Tom running from the bathroom with a red handprint on his backside, into Bill's arms while both Georg and butt-slapper Gustav cackled.

Tom will never live down the fact he squealed like a girl but Bill tactfully didn't mention it. Much.

After the first two times.

Or maybe it was the first six. He forgets these things.

But the atmosphere in the bedroom is amazing now. Everything feels so warm, and close, and relaxed that Bill can’t even try to summon up some negativity. Georg’s lesson went well, Bill learnt the value of frot, Tom learnt to trust Bill even more, and Gustav got reminded to check his controlling tendencies.

Both he and Tom had the most amazing orgasms – even better than the last lesson’s ones.

It’s not the last lesson they’ll ever have. Tom needs to learn more discipline, Bill isn’t ready to take command on his own, Gustav needs more one to one time, and Georg is finding taking point command over everything a little daunting.

But it’s… it’s better. They’re better. The music, the thrills, the pleasure, and the pain, everything is better and sharper, and clearer than it ever was before.

And that, Bill thinks, is the reason for it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Nice and short, but I thought I'd fill in some of the back story. Let me know what you think.


End file.
